Freak
by addict-writer
Summary: A college student headed home for the holidays, traveling by train, and stuck in a compartment with his worst enemies, along with the man he fancies. A crumpled paper thrown aimlessly landing on said man's laptop could be disastrous. FAGE 007 entry.


**FAGE 007**

**Title: Freak**

**Written for:**** LosT-in-Twific**

**Written By: addicted-to-romione-bedward**

**Rating: M**

**Pairing: Jasper/Peter**

**Summary/Prompt used: A college student headed home for the holidays, traveling by train, and stuck in a compartment with his worst enemies, along with the man he fancies. A crumpled paper thrown aimlessly landing on said man's laptop could be disastrous. **

**Many thanks to my amazing beta: harrytwifan! Banner by amazing Mina!**

**You can find all the stories here: ** www dot fanfiction dot net/ community /FAGE-007/93625/****

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My vision blurred as I stared at the crumpled paper that landed on my lap.

I fucking hated them. With a fucking passion.

It was my horrid luck to end up in the same train compartment with the jocks. Why were they travelling by train? Weren't they supposed to be made of money and drive the cars their daddies bought them?

This was a _fabulous_ start to my holidays.

I shrunk further in my seat, keeping my eyes on the words they wrote on the paper. _Freak_—it was their favorite nickname for me.

I refused to let their crude behavior get to me.

When I finished high school, I thought it was over. College meant no more name-calling, no more nasty looks, and no more snide remarks about my sexuality. I was dead wrong.

If anything, it got worse.

The guys excluded me from any team activity, some plainly avoiding me, others doing it in my face. When we had team work in classes, they'd look at me and laugh, saying I had to pair up with my invisible fag friends. When we had study groups in the library, they'd sit a table away from me, definitely not studying, but throwing pens and papers at me, and effectively not allowing me to study either. To make everything absolutely horrible, my roommate was the worst.

At first, I'd thought it was great he wasn't part of the football team or some other groups of men eager to show how big and bad they were. No, Edward was quickly included in some fraternity. I stupidly accepted one of his invitations to a party, and got the worst I ever had.

I'd never been as humiliated as at that party. They slipped some drug in my drink, stripped me naked, and wrote things on me. They even got me tattooed. I woke up stark naked on the front lawn of the fraternity house. Thankfully, I found a bed sheet in the mess they'd made, took it, and did the walk of shame.

I couldn't wait for my first year of collage to end, but I had six more months until I could dream of a small studio far away from campus. In the span of four months, they'd made my life miserable. I even missed the high school days of having my head shoved in the toilet bowl or being stuffed in a locker.

I crumpled the paper in my hand, all the pent up anger flaring up.

I had enough of being their punching bag, their puppet.

When I heard one of the guys from the team fake whimpering, his eyes fixated on me, I stood up. They _ooh_-ed and _ahh_-ed, mocking me. Clenching my jaw, I raised my hand, aimed, and threw the paper.

I finished Physics with an A+, so I should have known papers didn't fly well, which made me insanely angry. They'd managed to throw it at my head, and I couldn't even aim it back at them.

I stared in horror as the crumpled paper hit our History professor in the face, before falling on his open laptop.

Fuck. Me.

I willed my body to work properly so I could sit down, sink so low in the seat he wouldn't see I hit him.

When his glaring dark brown eyes met mine, I was still standing, staring at him in shock.

I should have apologized, but all I could do was sink low in my seat and pretend it never happened.

He'd think I called him a freak. Shit.

I wished I could see him, but I couldn't see anything.

I was so fucking embarrassed.

Professor Carter was the best guy ever. He'd helped me so much. We shared a passionate love for history, and we spent many hours in the library getting lost in discussing events from the past. We hadn't left anything uncovered, from Roman Wars to The Civil War, from the First World War to the Cold War, and even political crimes like Kennedy's assassination.

I had never bonded with anyone so well in my life.

It was all gone now. He probably hated me, considering he couldn't know I didn't write that shit.

I hated the jocks a little bit more.

They ruined everything between me and Professor Carter.

I never thought I'd be that guy, the type they show in the movies and books. I'd always ridiculed the stupid students who let themselves fall for their teacher. But that was before I met Professor Carter.

He was the most gorgeous specimen I'd had the pleasure of meeting. Everything was perfect about him—from his deep brown eyes to the tips of his sandy chestnut hair, his always manicured nails, his plucked eyebrows, and his beautiful, kissable mouth, to his designer charcoal suit and always crisp champagne pink shirt and slim black tie. There was nothing out of place. I admired that about him.

My clothes never matched, and I looked the epitome of poor art student. I owned only two pairs of pants—the over washed jeans on me and a pair of khakis. My shirts were all holey and washed so many times I didn't even know their real color.

**oOo**

When the train was a few minutes away from my stop, I got ready. Slipping into my jacket and wrapping the scarf around my neck, I grabbed my suitcase and my laptop bag, before making my way to the door.

Of course, it wasn't as easy as I thought.

When I passed the jocks, one of them stuck his foot out. I didn't see it before it was too late.

Next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the floor. With angry tears in my eyes, I got up and tried walking away with what was left of my dignity.

Another one of them grabbed one end of my scarf, making me choke and stumble. I fell right on Professor Carter's lap.

"Oh, shit. I'm so sorry," I stammered, feeling my face heating up.

He smiled kindly, helping me up, then gathering his own stuff. That's when I remembered. He told me he lived in the same town as me.

With my fucking luck, he'd live next door. Though, since he told me about living in town with me, I couldn't remember ever seeing him there. He was definitely new.

"I think that's quite enough, don't you?" he said in a clipped tone, eyes on the jocks. "I will remember this incident, and your grades will suffer."

They protested, but quieted when Professor Carter threatened them with suspension.

God, I loved him.

Even if all I could do was admit it in my head.

"Come on, Jasper." With a hand on the small of my back, Professor Carter guided me to the door, just as the train was pulling into the station.

He stepped out first, helping me with my bags.

"Thank you, Professor Carter."

"It's all right."

"No, I mean for back there." I pointed to the train behind us.

"They were out of line. Don't you think?"

"Yeah. They were." I gulped thickly, trailing after him.

We walked out of the railway station in silence. Once on the main road of the small town, I glanced at him, unsure the direction he was headed.

He caught my eye, smiling. "I live up the hill. You?"

My heart was beating out of my chest. "I'm the bottom." _Fuck, you're stupid, Whitlock! _"At the bottom. Of the hill. I live at the bottom of the hill."

Professor Carter chuckled, probably thinking I was crazy.

We walked toward the hill.

I worked up my courage to apologize about the note I'd thrown at him.

"I'm sorry, Professor Carter," I blurted. "They threw that paper at me. I…I didn't mean…I didn't write it."

"It's all right, Jasper. I know you didn't write it."

"You do? I mean, you were pretty upset."

"I was upset because they are stupid enough to pick on you because you're…different."

_Different_. "Yeah, I'm the freak," I said bitterly.

"You can't educate them. We can all hope such homophobic people will one day wake up and see gays aren't that much different than them."

"Except the obvious," I muttered, kicking at the snow at my feet.

Professor Carter laughed. "Yes, except the obvious."

I sighed. "Seriously, I'm sorry, Professor Carter. You shouldn't be involved in my problems."

"Stop apologizing, Jasper." He put a hand on my shoulder. My dick responded immediately to the simple gesture. _Thank God for my winter jacket_. "And do call me Peter. We're not at school anymore."

I raised my head and found his kind, brown eyes boring into mine. "Peter," I whispered, more like moaned, his name.

I'd wanted to call him that for months.

Peter smiled, his eyes sparkling in the late evening's sun. He didn't remove his hand as we kept walking.

"It gets better," he said softly.

"Sorry?"

"The way people treat you. It gets better. Some of them will never understand you and call you ugly names, but others will support you and be there for you."

"With all due respect, Peter…" My voice fluttered, but I had to say it. "…you don't understand me."

He squeezed my shoulder. "Oh, I understand you better than you think, Jasper."

I frowned, searching his eyes. _No way. He can't be gay_. My radar was broken if I hadn't realized it in all time we spent together.

"That's right," he said. "I'm queer, too. I get you, Jasper."

I grinned, realizing I stood a chance. Maybe…he liked me, too. Though, he was still my teacher.

We walked a few more minutes in silence, the only sound the snow crunching under our boots.

"So, your parents must be thrilled to have you home. I remember Mom used to go way out with everything when I came home for the holidays during college."

Right. He didn't know. "Uh, not exactly."

"Don't tell me they're that kind of parents."

I bit my trembling lip. "The dead kind, you mean?"

"Oh, fuck." He stopped walking and turned to face me. "I'm so sorry, Jasper. I didn't know."

"It's okay." I sniffed, looking away. "It happened when I missed your big test on the Civil War. I had to come home and…you know. Or maybe you don't." I shrugged.

Peter wrapped his arms around me, hugging me tightly. "What now? Where do you live?"

"Home. They left everything to me," I mumbled into his jacket, a sob catching in my throat.

"Shh." He rocked me slowly, and it was the first time in months I felt cared for, that I mattered. "It happened at the robbery, didn't it? I remember Jake calling to tell me about what happened at the bank."

"Yeah. The robbery. Many died." I could remember the sheriff calling me, too. Jacob was a family friend. "Sheriff Black helped me a lot."

"He's a good guy. Jasper, if you need anything, tell me. I can only imagine how you must feel."

"I'd actually appreciate it if you could come in with me. For a little while. Just so I can get used to being back…alone."

"Of course, I will. Come on. It's getting cold. It looks like it's going to start snowing."

In front of my house, I stopped and stared. I knew in that moment I couldn't walk in, not with Peter, not alone.

He seemed to sense my problem, because he hooked his arm under mine, steering me to the hill. He was taking me to his house. I couldn't find it in me to feel anything regarding that matter—not happy, not terrified, not sad, not anything.

I had no idea anyone actually lived on the hill behind my home, but I could see a house at the top.

Peter's house was more a cottage. It looked homey, though.

At his door, we were greeted by loud barks. Dogs always terrified me.

"Oh, Jake dropped him back. He took care of Fluffy."

"Fluffy? It sounds like you have a beast in there."

"He's a marshmallow." Peter unlocked and opened the door.

A huge, disheveled white dog barked loudly, sitting on his back legs, and almost hugged Peter. He was taller than Peter, which scared me. Then he turned to me.

I wasn't sure how he could see through all the hair falling in his eyes.

He fell to the ground, trotted to me, and sniffed. I stood paralyzed, unsure if it was safer to actually go back to my house.

"Come on, he won't bite. You can pet him." Peter guided me inside the house, ruffling the mass of white fur. "Leave your stuff here by the door."

It didn't take long to feel at home in Peter's house. He showed me around, then we settled on the sofa in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa.

Peter told me about how he moved here, being only a few hours away from his work place, and quiet. He ran away from the big city, needing the quiet and calm life a small town could provide.

I agreed with him, saying I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. I loved my fairytale town; especially at wintertime. It turned magical.

I even warmed up to his beast of a dog, who was currently lying in front of the fireplace, his eyes following Peter's every move.

The snow Peter predicted was a real storm, and the fire in front of us couldn't do much. Somehow, Peter wrapped a blanket around both of us, effectively holding me against his side. He was warm and smelled so good. I hugged the mug to my chest, snuggling closer when I heard the wind howling outside.

I felt so good in his arms. It was forbidden on so many levels, and I knew he'd never look at me like that, but I had never felt so safe around someone who wasn't family.

"They used to call me a freak, too," he said softly after many silent minutes.

"Does it really get better?" I whispered, glancing up at him.

"You need to learn to ignore them, Jasper. It doesn't do you any good to get angry at all the mindless people who throw insults your way." He extracted the empty mug from my hands and put it next to his on the floor. "When I applied for History professor at your college, the Dean asked if my preference for men was going to be a problem."

"How did he even know?"

"The reason I left teaching high school classes was also the end of a ten year relationship with a man, who happened to be the Math teacher at the school. I decided college was a safer choice, more open-minded people. I was wrong."

"Yeah, I get you. I thought it would end with high school…you know all this stuff, but it got worse. The only difference is I haven't been shoved head down in a toilet. Yet."

"You know why this happened?" He stroked my hair, and I did my best not to lean into his touch.

"Because I'm a fag and they hate me?"

"Because you were brave enough to come out in high school. I never flaunted it, but I tried not to make a point in showing people who I am."

I snorted, staring into his eyes. "Do you think I stood up one day and shouted to the world that I was gay? No. They realized it in the locker room. I couldn't take my eyes off their dicks."

"Huh. I don't even know which way is better. I wasn't been open about who I am until I met Diego, my last and only boyfriend." He sighed, looking so sad.

"Can I ask…if it's okay…you don't have to answer…" I stammered.

"We grew distant. That's all. Not all relationships work," he said, staring into the fire. "It was probably the only time our friends and colleagues at school realized we weren't much different than them. We broke up, too."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. We stayed friends. It wasn't worth ruining a ten year long friendship because our romantic relationship no longer worked."

"That's impressive. I hear people can't stay friends if they were…_lovers_," I whispered the word, my face warming.

Peter chuckled. "Yeah, we're the exception. Maybe because we were friends first? Now, my turn to ask embarrassing questions."

_I'd rather throw myself in the snowstorm outside than have this conversation with him._ I only shrugged in response, snuggling closer against his side.

"Are you seeing anyone? I want you to know you can talk to me. I've been there, done that. I want to help you, Jasper."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I'm not seeing anyone."

"Oh. Do you know the library guy, Caius? He's a really cool kid."

_Is he seriously trying to hook me up with the library guy?_

"I'd rather have a mature relationship. Caius is…too air-headed," I said, not taking my eyes off a loose thread on the blanket.

"Is that so?" The arm around me slipped lower until his fingers curled around my hips.

_Sensory overload._

_Stop it, Professor Carter. I'm ready to jump your bones_.

"Yeah," I choked out.

"Do you mind if I ask about others you've been with?"

I turned red, pressing my cheek to his chest—firm, strong chest, mind you."Nooneelse."

"Sorry, didn't catch that." He tilted my head.

"I've never…been with anyone. I mean, I kissed this guy in a club I went with my fake ID, and had a blow job…but nothing else," I blurted out, hoping he caught all my jumbled words.

"I can't believe a guy as pretty as you hasn't had guys throwing themselves at you."

"They usually throw me out of their way."

He wasn't deterred from his speech. "You say you like them mature?"

"Yes," I whispered, staring at his mouth.

"You need to drop out of History class."

"I hate History anyway," I joked.

Peter leaned closer. I could feel his breath on my lips, his musky scent surrounding me as he cupped my cheek. Then I closed my eyes, and next thing I knew we were kissing.

I sighed, relaxing against him, succumbing to his soft lips caressing mine. I tried not to think too much of how inappropriate this was, but I wanted him and he wanted me.

His hand from my hip slipped lower, gripping my hard dick. I moaned, breaking our contact. He moved to kiss my neck, while I straddled his hips.

"You sure?" I whispered, searching his deep, melted chocolate eyes.

"I never wanted anyone more." He peppered kisses on my neck. "For the past few months, I've told myself I was a pervert for craving to see you every day. I was counting down the minutes until our meetings in the library."

"Me too!" I laughed. "Here I thought I was the only one with crazy feelings."

He chuckled, kissing me softly.

"Show me," I begged, caressing his hair. "I've wanted this for so long…"

"Never?" He smirked.

"Never," I confirmed, knowing he was asking about my non-existent sex life.

"Let me show you what you've been missing."

Peter led me to his bedroom, where he peeled our clothes off slowly. I got so hot all over, I stopped worrying about freezing.

If someone told me at the beginning of my Freshman year in college that in only a few months my life would be turned upside down, I wouldn't have believed them.

First, college turned out to be not what I expected, in a bad way, regarding the level of maturity I expected from people.

Second, a month ago, Sheriff Black called me with the worst news anyone could get about their parents.

And third, I not only befriended a great teacher, but somehow ended up with him in bed. He liked me back.

All the months I'd spend drooling over him, proved me that stormy night, the feeling was mutual. Peter had liked me too, all along.

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**I hope everyone enjoyed this, especially you, Lotty! :)  
**


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